Page 66 of Ink's Devil

“Nah. She can talk to Mel.” Demon turns to me. “But for fuck’s sake do not give her any details of what happened tonight. Can I fuckin’ trust you on that?”

It’s Mel’s man who persuades me. “Keeping ol’ ladies out of club business is keeping them safe. You get dragged into this mess? Your friends might be questioned. If she doesn’t know anything, she can’t implicate herself or the club. Got it?”

I nod. I’ve got it. “She’s pregnant, Pyro. I won’t hurt her again. I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut. I’ll do nothing and say nothing that could upset Mel.”

“Yeah.” Pyro gives a twisted smile. “Just say it’s club business, and she’ll give you sympathy without questions.”

I suppose that makes sense, but I highly doubt Mel will be able to stop herself from interrogating me. But as I don’t know what’s going on myself, there’s little I can give away. If I’m honest, I’d prefer not to admit I have a brother I never talk about, who’s tried to get me involved in criminal activity carried out by the man who, however much I dislike it, is my dad. Not quite the kind of family you bring up in idle conversation.

Chapter Nineteen

Ink

As a Marine, I was used to making split-second decisions. I’d been a sniper and it’s ingrained in me how to quickly assess what is a threat and what is not. Any hesitation might mean the death of my comrades. I see a situation and sum it up fast.

Her stature and figure were immediately familiar, and then that telltale blue hair left me without the slightest doubt it was Beth. I didn’t even stop to think why she was there. One split second was all it took to realise that I couldn’t let her get taken in by the cops. I didn’t stop to rationalise anything, just acted entirely on instinct to save the woman I must have serious feelings for. Else, why would I put my freedom on the line?

I was brought to the station and searched. My cut, wallet, phone and belt had been taken from me—my gun and knife had already disappeared when they’d handcuffed me at the scene. I’d been photographed and fingerprinted even though my prints are already on file, as previously, I’d been rounded up before with other members of the MC for something we hadn’t done.

Beth’s appearance, my arrest and processing, it had all happened so fast, moving me along like a stone crashed against the rocks by the tide. Now the action has stopped, I have the first chance in hours to consider what’s happened. As my situation catches up with me, I realise what a fucking bind I’m in.

Pushed inside with the door clanging behind me, I get my first taste of where I’ll be spending the remainder of this god-awful night. It’s a Saturday, the station is crammed and busy. Clearly no cells are available, I’ve ended up in the drunk tank of all fucking places.

Most of the inmates around me are currently sleeping off their excess, those that aren’t, I intimidate with a glare and a flex of my muscles. Then, confident I’ll be left alone, I sink down onto my haunches and, ignoring the snores, belching and farting as best I can, take a moment to process and think.

Beth. Fuckin’ Beth. What the fuck was she doing there? If she were here standing in front of me, it wouldn’t be my palm on her ass she’d be feeling, but my hands wrapped around her neck as I shook whatever it was that had gotten into her out.

Fucking hell. I’d all but decided to claim her, and she was carrying drugs to a drop-off point. Is she the one fucking with my club?

Too frustrated to rest, I abruptly stand. One of the drunks staggers to his feet.

“You fuckin’ kicked me,” he slurs.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you if you don’t sit back down.” I’m longing to hit out at anyone, and he’ll do if he doesn’t shut up.

My rage gets through his alcoholic haze, and wisely for him, if disappointing to me, he sits once again.

What the fuck was Beth doing there?

Beth supplying drugs?

No. That’s not the woman I’ve come to know, that’s not her, is it? I rake my hands through my hair, trying to understand, thinking back to what I saw. She’d emerged from the alley nervous and on edge, not as though this was something she did all the time. When I took the drugs from her, she’d tried to protest, had been hesitant when I told her to run. That’s not the reactions of a supplier of drugs. Why was making the drop so important?

Why the fuck was she there?

Why did I set myself up?

My fist hits my palm.

A loud window-rattling snore reminds me where I am. I’ve given up my freedom, for her. For a bitch who most likely doesn’t deserve it. A fucking bitch who I thought of making my old lady. Well, being locked up has at least saved me from making that mistake. Women, never good news.

I glance around, almost hoping one of these fuckers gives me a hard time. I won’t start a fight, but it sure would be me as the last man standing.

I’m in jail. I’ve done nothing wrong.Cops will never believe me.

I may not get out. Unless I can come up with a story that’s convincing.How the fuck do I do that?

My—I snort at the idea I refer to her as mine—woman may have let me down, but my club will never desert me. I can depend on them and know they will already be arranging a lawyer. Sykes, if I’m not mistaken. Maybe between us we can work out something that the cops will accept.

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